


Adventures in Minecraft Capitalism (With Your Undead Brother)

by Paperturtledove



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I swear it's going to be mostly fun, I wanted this to be a fun ride but revivedbur is too inherently angsty for that, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Panic Attacks, Protective Sam | Awesamdude, Protective Wilbur Soot, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Suicidal Thoughts, Villain Jack Manifold, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, everyone has repressed trauma, strongly of the team rocket variant in this, this is me attempting to be funny but oops! i slipped in all that angst, yeah sorry man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paperturtledove/pseuds/Paperturtledove
Summary: A revived Wilbur is desperate to make it up to Tommy. He has the perfect idea.In which Wilbur becomes the world's most passive aggressive hotel attendee, featuring a side of family angst, Telle-tubby trauma, good old regular trauma, Team Rocket tier schemes, cats, and bonding through the power of capitalism.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jack Manifold & Niki | Nihachu, Jack Manifold & TommyInnit, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 38
Kudos: 671





	1. Cats Will Ruin All Your Attempts to Brood

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah I originally wanted this to be a funny premise but no matter how you spin it Revivedbur will always come with baggage.

Tommy had a hotel now. It was large and grand, a marvel of Sam’s designing skills and hard work. It was worth every diamond, in his mind. But it wasn’t just a fine specimen of architecture. It was a business, one that needed to be looked after and grown. And for that business, he needed employees, one’s who understood the purpose of the hotel. It was going to be a sanctuary, a place of respite.

  
It was also a place where Tommy could sell drugs in it’s basement for extra cash. 

Wilbur frowned as he looked around the crudely dug out space, which Tommy had dubbed the “Drug Hole”. It was in such stark contrast to Sam’s impressive craftsmanship. Aside from the wooden beams holding the ceiling up and torches illuminating the walls, there was nothing down here. There weren’t even any potion stands, and yet Tommy looked wickedly pleased with himself.

“You like it, huh? Just like the old days.” His voice was equally as smug.

He frowned in concern. “Isn’t that the exact thing you want to avoid?” Starting a drug business filled him with an ominous sense of deja vu. His eyes flickered around nervously. He didn’t like being underground again.

Tommy just shrugged. “Dream’s not here anymore. What’s the worst that could happen? Besides,” he looked around the space fondly “The camarvan, the drugs and all that? It’s actually a good memory for me.”

Wilbur didn’t know how to respond to that. There was a mix of guilt and dread growing in his stomach. “I still don’t know. This doesn’t seem safe.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Tommy’s face dropped into a pout. “Hey, you remember what you told me? ‘Oh Tommy, I’ll do anything to make it up to you!’ And I said ‘Okay bitch, you’re gonna work at my hotel and help me sell drugs!’ And you were all like ‘Of course Big Man Tommy, right on that.’”

“Hold on, you said nothing about selling drugs!”

“Too late! We made a deal.” He walked over and tugged on his sleeve “C’mon, please? It won’t just be us, everyone’s starting to sell stuff on this server. Even Sam himself! Please?” It was clearly a ploy for sympathy, as Tommy made a sad face at him.

It worked. Wilbur sighed. “Fine. I’ll help.”

“Yeah!” His brother threw his fists up in victory. “Tommy and Wilbur, cooking up some drugs. Just like old times.”

_ Is that what this is about?  _ Wilbur thought alarmingly.  _ An attempt to go back to how things were? _ The ”drugs” were potions. They had never actually been real drugs. It had been an inside joke between Wilbur and Techno as kids about how potions could make you stronger and were therefore equivalent to steroids. Saying “hand me some drugs” when asking for a potion became a running gag, with Tommy and Tubbo joining in when they were old enough. 

Tommy seemed to be doing fine recently. He was preoccupied with his hotel, chattering on happily about it last night during dinner. Wilbur had already agreed to help out a few days before but today was the first day he’d been here in person.

“Anyway, that’s not actually set up yet, so let me show you around the hotel!”

He climbed up the ladder, ushering Wilbur out of the Drug Hole. He followed behind slowly. Ever since being resurrected, there had been a stiffness in his joints he’d never quite gotten rid of. He felt like an old man, not being able to run for long without getting winded. 

After steadily pushing himself out, Tommy locked the trapdoor behind them. It blended into the floor. If not for the keyhole and small carved handle you grabbed to lift it, no one would know it was there. “If anyone asks, it’s a storage room.” Tommy said. “Employees only.” 

“Right, that reminds me,” he ran his gaze over the desk, cluttered with papers. “You said you had another employee, right? Who was it again?”

“Oh, that would be Jack Manifold.” Tommy pointed to the form with Jack’s name signed like Wilbur had done. 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

“What, Jack? Don’t be silly, I just mess with him a bit sometimes. But I’m paying him now, so it’s kinda like retribution.” He began to shuffle through the mess of papers.

“He’s gonna be working the front desk. As funny as it would be, I don’t think people walking in and seeing you - well, you alive, that is - would leave the best first impression on my hotel.”

_ Right, it wouldn’t exactly be a very welcoming environment with me here.  _ Only a few people knew Wilbur was alive. Tommy, who’d been at the resurrection itself. Dream, who’d brought him back, was in prison. Sam, who saw him come out and who’d recently been checking in on Tommy ‘for business reasons’ (Wilbur did not miss the look of concern in his eyes or the wary glances he threw Wilbur’s way). Then Tubbo, because Tommy could never keep anything from Tubbo, and finally Fundy. He’d gone out himself to find him, and Fundy had sworn he wouldn’t share it with anybody until he was ready.

Fundy seemed… different from what little he remembered as a ghost. Wilbur expected him to be angry, but he just looked at him with pity. When he asked why, Fundy sounded resigned. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been angry for so long, and I’m just sick of it. It’s exhausting.” Wilbur distinctly remembered him thinking Fundy looked older now, and wondered if even now he aged faster than the rest of them. “I… I came very close to hurting people I loved. No, I  _ did  _ hurt the people I loved. But I stopped myself. I didn’t want to be like you.”

It was an understandable sentiment, even Wilbur didn’t want to be like him. “It just feels harder for me to judge you now, I guess.” Fundy had admitted.

Wilbur shook his head. “Don’t say that. You have every right to hate me. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

The fox frowned. “I know that. Don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty of things to yell at you about. But my throat’s sick of yelling, and besides,” he took off his hat, pressing it to his chest. “I’ve done that already. It didn’t accomplish anything, it didn’t even make me feel better. But now the real you is here and you just look pathetic. I’d just be hitting someone while they’re down.”

He turned away. “So we’ll talk when you’re better. I’m guessing you don’t want me to tell Philza you’re alive?”

“No. Please don’t. Not right now.”

“Thought so.” And he left quickly, without another word.

_ Better _ . It seemed like a fairly vague requirement. Better as in physically better? Mentally? Morally? He didn’t know, but it was clear the first step to getting “better” was to stop moping around Tommy’s dirt shack. He would start moping around his hotel instead.

Turning towards his other estranged family member, Tommy was currently trying to shoo out one of the many cats that made the hotel property their home. 

“Out with you demonic things! Out I say!” He swiped at a gray tabby with rolled up documents. “Stop shitting all over my floors!”

“Don’t hit the cats, Tommy. That’s animal cruelty.” He scolded. “Just put out a litter box or something.”

Tommy scowled deeply. “You haven’t been here, you don’t know how those bastards have tormented me. Why can’t Sam Nook’ve asked for dogs instead?”

Cats weren’t Wilbur’s favorite animal, but his brother’s dislike of them was borderline worrying, to say the least. That being said, it was going to be a problem if they left their shit all over. He mentally made a note to get that litter box for later. The cat had fled, so Tommy was content for now.

“Alright, now that that’s done with, I’ll show you the upper floors.” They stood on the redstone powered elevator and flipped the switch to lift them up. “You’ll be working up here. You can clean when people are gone so they don’t see you yet, stuff like that.” 

They stepped off on the next floor, only to be met with a horrifying sight. The room was currently populated by multiple cats. “What the fuck!” shrieked Tommy. “How did they get up here?! They’re demons, I told you! Demons! Get out of here!” He waved his hands and yelled and the cats who were contentedly lounging around the room. A fluffy brown cat lying on the bed looked in their direction and flicked his ear, refusing to budge. “What’re you looking at, buddy? Do you wanna fight, huh?” The brown cat yawned and put its head back down. 

Behind him, Wilbur tried not to laugh. He should probably step in before Tommy got himself all scratched up. “Let’s get some fish and lure them out.”

“No Wilbur, I need to fight them! It’s the only way they’ll leave me alone.” He brought up his balled fists.

“Please don’t throw hands with a cat. You will lose.” 

“You don’t know that.” Tommy protested. Below, the brown cat got up and jumped off the bed, slinking over to rub itself on Wilbur’s leg. “See? It’s mocking us.”

“I don’t know, it seems like it likes me.” He tried to bend down to rub its head, but froze as a jolt of pain seized his back.  _ Seriously? Is bending down too much now?  _ “Having a body again fucking sucks,” he muttered under his breath.

Tommy seemed to notice and frowned in concern. “You okay, Wilbur?” The guilt in his eyes made Wilbur burn with shame. Tommy was the one who wanted him back, after all. 

He recalled his rude awakening, the smooth feel of obsidian on his cheek, the heat from the lava, the ticking of a clock in the background. The first thing he’d seen had been Dream and he’d jerked back, learning that his body was not what it once was in the process. He’d promptly passed out after that, Tommy dragging him out of the cell and Sam carrying him the rest of the way out. He’d woken up in Tommy’s dirt shack and spent the next few days in a daze, Tommy’s nervous eyes following him like he wanted to say something.

He’d gotten it out of his system eventually. Tommy didn’t hold back, there’d been yelling, crying, and a good sock to the face. Wilbur deserved much worse than that, but Tommy seemed content, if still wary of him. While he acted a good deal like his old self, loud and eager, it was clear in the way he flinched at loud noises and always tried to stand a ways away from Wilbur that things weren’t the same. He knew why. Ghostbur’s memories sat at the back of his mind like a staticky VHS recording. Wilbur couldn’t leave it at that, he needed to do something, some way to make it up to his brother. So here he was, at the Big Innit Hotel, watching his brother scream at cats.

“I’m fine.” was all he said. 

Tommy nodded, still looking unsure. He snatched up the brown cat, who gave a startled meow. “Let’s get these pussies outta here then.” The cat squirmed in his arms and lashed out at his hand, causing Tommy to drop it with a yelp.

“Bitch!” He chased the cat to the elevator, Wilbur following behind chuckling in amusement.

They ended up using fish to lure the cats out. Tommy tossed the bait outside for the wide eyed cats to fight over and shut the door. “And stay out!” he yelled. “See, this is why the queen owns dogs and not cats. Dogs are clearly far superior.”

“So am I actually going to learn anything about my job, or…?” Wilbur looked at the sun already dipping behind the hills. 

Tommy looked alarmed. “Aw shit, that’s right! Okay, extra sheets and pillows are on the first floor closet. Mops and soap and stuff are on the second. Sam gave me a few keys that work for every door including the main one, so you’ll get one of those eventually. So yeah, just help me cook drugs and clean up people’s messes and you’re good!”

_ Ironic, I can’t even clean up my own mess,  _ he thought.  _ Geez, when did I become so melodramatic? You’re basically just doing chores, no need to bring your baggage here.  _

He heard the jingle of keys. “Alright, let’s head back.” said Tommy. “I’ll have to reintroduce you to Jack Manifold tomorrow.”

“Is he still running his little one man show? What was it, Manifold Land?”

Tommy shrugged. “Maybe. He’s living with Tubbo in Snowchester, so he might not. You can ask him tomorrow.” He reached for the door only to be stopped by a familiar noise.

“Mrrrrow!”

Horror filled Tommy’s face. Outside was the crowd of cats they had driven out earlier. They were done fighting over the fish. It was gone, and they evidently wanted more.

“Tommy,” Wilbur’s face was dead serious. “You’re going to have to run for it.”

“But what about you?”

He looked off to the horizon. “I’ll be the bait.”

“Wilbur, no!” 

He stifled a smile. Tommy was still willing to go along with their bits. At least he could still try to make him laugh. “Wish me luck.” He prepared to rush out, and the doors were thrown open.

The first thing Wilbur saw was a torrent of fur. The hungry bastards were fast, and the second the doors opened, they flooded the lobby once more. Wilbur, once ready to spring into action, stood there dumbfounded. 

“No!” cried Tommy, distraught. “Not again!”

In the end, Wilbur had persuaded Tommy to give up. “I don’t think they’re going away. I’ll find a litter box tomorrow.” 

“So that’s it? We’re just admitting defeat?” Tommy’s shoulders slumped. If things were different, Wilbur might’ve put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. But he refrained.

He tried looking on the bright side instead. “It won’t be so bad. Maybe the cats will bring in more guests. I’m sure it’s hard for you to believe, but lots of people like cats.”

Tommy pauses. “Well, not _everyone.”_ _Ponk_ _and Sapnap,_ crossed his mind. “But I guess you might be right. You know what they say, if we can’t beat em, exploit em for money!” He glanced at the sky, which had grown ever darker. “Let me lock up for real this time. If the cats want to linger, they can stay here overnight.” Some cats were indeed lounging about outside, though most were still sniffing around for more fish. Wilbur resolved to put a bowl of food and water in addition to a litter box. 

“All in a day’s work.” Tommy announced, trodding back over. “Let’s go home Wilbur.” He started to walk off, Wilbur trailing slightly behind.

_ Home. _ It felt like an odd word. Wilbur hadn’t had a home in a while, not truly. In some way, not even L’mamburg had fully been his home. It’s what he wanted it to be, and it would’ve been, if he’d had more time to appreciate what he’d won. But his time as president had been marred by the overwhelming stress of running a new country. L’mamburg was a place to defend, a place to keep. It had never been a place to relax. He remembered the nights of the early days, joking in the camarvan, sitting around the campfire singing the newly written anthem. Maybe that was what Tommy was after, he thought looking back at the hotel. That feeling of togetherness, of trusting the people around you. 

He doubted he’d ever have anything close to that again. He’d pushed everyone away during Pogtopia, using them and breaking their trust. But looking at Tommy, maybe he could see his brother have that again. It was the least he could do for him.

So he dipped his head and followed Tommy back to the gremlin’s dirt shack. It was not home, but it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I do not endorse any of the cat hatred in this fic. I love cats, but TommyInnit apparently does not. And I, much like a cat, thrive off of attention. Comments are greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Next time: Wilbur has to interact with someone that isn't Tommy. Worse, that person is Jack Manifold. Even worse, they have to work together. 
> 
> My Tumblr


	2. It is a lovely day, and you are a horrible Jack Manifold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack shows up at the hotel and meets an unpleasant coworker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support! This is the most attention I've gotten on a fic ever. I guess this is what it's like to write for an active fandom. I see your cries, I see the fandom's despair at Tommy's recent livestream, and I assure you that while we may get angsty here, we will never be that angsty. This is going to be a healing kind of angsty. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

When Jack got Tommy’s private message asking him to come to the hotel, he thought nothing of it. _I’ve got to show you something important before the grand opening._ He assumed it was some new thing Sam had done or an update on the potio- er, ‘drug’ selling business they’d be covertly running. He slipped out easily. Tubbo was out chopping spruce wood for extensions to Snowchester and Foolish was, well, Foolish, so there was no one to explain himself too. 

He strategically only brought a few items. His trident, the Manifork to travel there, a diamond pickaxe and sword just in case, and some jerky for food. Sure, Tommy might be paying him now, but he could never be too careful with his items around that bastard. As he flew along the water with the Manifork, he ran through the plan in his head.

Really, he didn’t actually have a plan. He and Niki were still in the information gathering phase after their last failure. Jack fumed. It was an entire nuke! How could it miss him by so little! Even the radiation hadn’t seemed to do the trick. The entire time Jack couldn’t tell if he’d actually gotten radiation poisoning or if it was all an elaborate hoax. Knowing Tommy, he wasn’t even surprised anymore. Sometimes it felt like no matter what they did, he would always crawl out like a cockroach underneath your shoe, somehow unscathed. 

_Nevermind all that, you have a golden opportunity here!_ He really couldn’t believe Tommy had chosen to hire _him_ of all people. What were the odds? Just when Lady Luck seemed to have abandoned him, everything turned out in his favor. 

Only thing was, picking a time to make Tommy’s death inconspicuous was nigh impossible now. Most people had likely seen the towering building in the distance and wondered about it. Even if they hadn’t received an invitation people were bound to come around and see what it was. If he killed him before the grand opening, curious people would still come by. If he did it after, people would be aware that he worked here and was in close proximity to Tommy. And Prime forbid it was during the opening with all those people there!

Not to mention how much Sam (or “Sam Nook” or whatever) came around. He could tell the mutant creeper didn’t like him from the way his stare lingered on for too long. Jack was beginning to think he suspected him. Even if he hid all the evidence, made it look like a complete accident, there was a strong chance that if Tommy died mysteriously now, suspicion would fall to him. 

So his plan so far was this: to not just gain Tommy’s trust, but Sam’s as well, and to be in Sam’s presence when Niki did the deed. When or how were details they hadn’t figured out yet, but if Jack was eliminated from being suspicious there was a good chance they’d get away with it. Niki lived alone now and according to her, hadn’t talked to many people lately. No one would have reason to care where she was. 

That last part was a little concerning, especially as Jack glanced over at her unmade bed behind a set of bars. But she was right, it was better if she did it. Besides, Jack had seen the hurt in her eyes and the anger in her voice. Yeah he found Tommy infuriating, but for Niki it seemed much more personal. She deserved to have this. 

As he settled on the mainland of the SMP, everything seemed as it should be. Those weird red vines didn’t seem to have grown any more, which wasn’t exactly comforting given they were still there in the first place. He was glad they had chosen to not ask the Eggpire for help. Sure, they might also hate Tommy but no revenge quest was worth getting involved with some shady egg cult for. “Ugly ass vines,” he muttered as he stepped over the ones that had overgrown the Prime Path. 

The hotel looked like it did yesterday, thankfully ungrieved and untouched. A few cats hung around outside like usual, and the doors were open, indicated Tommy was likely here already. He took a deep breath and got ready to play nice with his new employer, striding in confidently. 

There were certainly a lot more cats inside than he remembered. Jack shrugged it off. Cats multiplied fast. He spotted them crowded around a figure in a familiar yellow sweater. “Ghostbur?” he asked. He’d talked with the ghost once or twice, but hadn’t seen him since Doomsday. The figure turned around. Jack froze.

His skin was not gray, and that look on his face was polar opposite to the friendly ghost. He looked just as startled as Jack felt, as he stood gaping at a dead man. 

  
“Wilbur Soot?!”

The man who had to be Wilbur regained his composure and fixed Jack with a blank stare. “Yes, and?” His voice was raspy and croaked.

“But you’re- you’re dead!” Memories of Dream saying _I have a book,_ came to him. Was that what had happened? Dream revived the former terrorist to cause chaos? Did Tommy make him?

Wilbur just turned back to the cats. “I was. Now I’m not.” He was filling up a bowl full of tiny fish. Jack could smell it from across the room. “Things change.”

“That’s not an answer!” he sputtered. “What are you even doing here?”

He smiled in amusement at Jack’s confusion. “I work here now. I’m kind of a glorified janitor.”

_He works here?!_ So Tommy had to know then. _He probably made Dream bring him back too._ He crossed his arms defensively. There were a few complaints he’d like to make about dumping suddenly revived coworkers on him and nearly giving him a heart attack. 

“Is Tommy here?” The doors were open, so either they came together or Wilbur had a key of his own. It would be infuriating if that were the case. Jack didn’t even have his own key yet! No way Tommy trusted him enough for that unless he was stupid. Then again, he was trusting Jack, so maybe he was that stupid.

His concerns were put to rest, however, as Wilbur just pointed behind the desk and said “Drug hole.” Jack dashed over and yanked open the trap door.

“Tommy!” he yelled, sliding down the latter. “You need to explain, now!”

He saw Tommy standing over a table with a potion stand, brewing the currently steaming liquid. The boy looked in Jack’s direction at the sound of his voice and squirmed awkwardly. 

“So, I guess you saw Wilbur, huh?”

“What the hell! You can’t just drop a bombshell like that so nonchalantly!” Jack fumed.

Tommy kept stirring the potion nervously. “I did plan to introduce you formally, if that helps.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Well, too bad then.” He shrugged it off. “You won’t have to see much of him anyway, but you are both working here. You don’t gotta be nice, but don’t kill each other.” His tone was surprisingly mature for his age. _It’s like he actually knows how to run a business,_ Jack thought bitterly. “And don’t tell anyone right now either. We don’t want people to freak out and not come to our hotel.”

Jack scowled and stormed back towards the ladder. This complicated things. Not only was there _yet another_ witness to have to worry about, but one who likely wouldn’t hesitate if he found out what Jack was up to. The brothers had always been close in L’manburg. He didn’t know the exact terms Wilbur and Tommy were on now, but considering Wilbur was working here and Tommy seemed fine with it, it was at least cordial. And given Wilbur’s track record, he decided crossing him maybe wasn’t the best idea.

_Niki knew him better than I did. Maybe she can help distract him under the guise of catching up?_ If there was any way to salvage this, Jack would take it. Said complication was currently leaning against the wall, watching the cats crowd around the food and water he’d put out. 

He spotted Jack and gave an amused smile. “So, are you still in charge in Manifoldland or whatever it was called?”

Jack stood up straight and jutted his chin out, not going to be intimidated by him. “I am, as a matter of fact.”

“Anyone other than you join?”

He sputtered. “Well, not exactly- It’s a work in process, you see.” 

Wilbur laughed, and Jack hated him ever more for it. “So it’s grown about as much as your hair has, then.”

_Why is it always the hair? It’s shaved, not bald dammit!_ Maybe if the accident were to involve two people instead of one, he wouldn’t mind at all.

“Better than your nation. At least it’s still there!” he spat. The undead man’s face grew dark and his stare was pointed. _Shit,_ Jack gulped. _Wrong thing to say._

He stood like a deer in headlights, waiting for Wilbur to snap, or just do anything at all. Finally, he dropped his gaze. “I’m well aware.” was all he said.

Jack excused himself to go outside. As if he couldn’t be any more annoyed at Tommy, he’d now stuck him with the shittiest co-worker ever.

* * *

  
  


Wilbur didn’t like the look of that Jack Manifold guy. He’d skipped out on the Pogtopia vs Manburg conflict by leaving his country and creating his own narcissistically named patch of land. While it had been a footnote to everything else going on, he distinctly remembered thinking “Coward!” when he heard the news. 

He hoped they wouldn’t have to interact much. If you’d given Wilbur a list of people least to most that he wanted to talk to when he came back to life, Tommy and Fundy would be at the top, Tubbo, Techno, and maybe Dream near the middle, and Philza at the very bottom. Meanwhile Jack Manifold wouldn’t even be on the list. 

With the cats placated with food, he was currently helping move the brewing stands into the Drug Hole. Tommy had already started brewing, whistling an unfamiliar tune.

“What’s that song?” he asked. That reminded him, he hadn’t played at all since getting back. Was his guitar still down in Pogtopia? He grimaced at the thought of having to go down there again. Even only a few feet underground with daylight just in sight he still felt like the walls could close in at any moment. 

Tommy faked shock at his question. “How could you not know the Able Sisters, Wilbur? It’s only the best song of all time! Can’t believe we’re even related.”

“We’re not. You’re adopted.” he deadpanned. 

“And now you deny our relation! Tragic.” Tommy shook his head. “And for the record, so are you.”

The only family Wilbur had ever known had no relation to him by blood. Of course he would never deny them. But he felt unworthy to even call himself Tommy’s brother after all that’s happened.

“So who are you going to sell too?” Did Tommy actually have a plan, or was this just his childish perception from Wilbur of what a business was?

“Big Q actually offered to come check this place out. I let him know about the drugs. He’s totally on board to support us.” Tommy puffed out his chest. “We’ll be making cash in no time.”

_Quackity, huh?_ “Are you going to tell him about me?” Quackity had been there when Ghostbur had asked Tommy to revive him, so that might help clear up some confusion about his alive state. 

Tommy looked to him. “Do you _want_ him to know?” Wilbur thought about it. Quackity was a bit of a wild card in his mind. He could imagine him being nonchalant just as easy as he could imagine his face contorted with rage at the sight of the man who blew up his country. There was also the question of whether he’d tell anyone. Quackity liked to talk, and he especially liked gossip. 

That being said, part of him wanted someone to know. Someone besides Tommy and the cats (and Jack Manifold, he supposed), that is. He felt like he was still a ghost, unknown to many. 

What came out was; “I don’t know.”

* * *

  
  


Jack stood outside, frantically typing out a private message to Niki.

**_We have a problem_ ** **.**

It took her a few moments to respond, likely because they hadn’t collaborated on a plan for today. _What is it?_

**_Tommy hired someone else that could pose a problem._ **

_Who?_

**_It’s Wilbur Soot. He’s alive apparently._ **

There was no response for a while after that. Jack felt a bit bad for dropping that bombshell on her and not even having the decency to do it in person, but he needed help and leaving now was far too suspicious. Finally, she responded.

_How_

**_Probably Dream_ **

_Since when_

**_How am I supposed to know?!_ **

_Ask him_

**_I’m not talking to that bastard anymore than I have to!_ **

_Ask Tommy then_

He frowned, but it wasn’t that suspicious of a question now that he thought about it. It was a fairly reasonable one actually. Anyone would want to know more about how their coworker had come back from the dead.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice asked. He spun around to see Wilbur standing there, dull eyes looking right at him. He spotted the communicator. “Talking to someone? Who is it?”

“None of your business!” he spat. “You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t like me, so know I don’t like you either!”

“Alright.” he said casually. “But seriously, why are you talking to someone instead of helping us out downstairs?” 

Jack huffed. “It’s a bit of an emergency, if you must know.”

“Really?” Wilbur tilted his head. “Because you left right after talking to Tommy about me. Let me guess, you told someone I was alive, didn’t you?”

He felt himself heat up with pressure. “What, right after Tommy told me not too? What do you take me for, a fool?”

“Pretty much, actually.”

Jack wanted to retaliate, but it was technically true. He did indeed tell someone seconds after Tommy had told him not to. So he kept his mouth shut and glared. Then he had a thought. Perhaps he _should_ tell him. It might throw him off.

“Fine. I was talking to Niki Nihachu.” He saw Wilbur’s eyes go wide. “Yeah, just figured she’d want to know, seeing how you two were friends and all-”

“She knows?” Panic flared in his eyes. He took a step back. Jack started to get a little nervous. The look on Wilbur’s face reminded him of a cornered animal, ready to lash out at any provocation. He started to ramble. “That’s- I can’t-I’m not ready for this yet, I-” He started to lurch over, holding onto the side of the door for balance.

“Woah, woah! Breath man!” Guilt pricked him as he watched him start to hyperventilate. _He’s still a bastard, but damn, I didn’t think it’d be this bad._ “Hey Tommy!” he shouted inside. “Little help out here?”

No reply came. _Damn, he must still be in the Drug Hole. Do I have to deal with this myself?_ There wasn’t really a good option here. He definitely didn’t want to have to touch him, that’d likely freak out. Should he risk leaving him alone for a little to get Tommy? He looked inside. If he ran in it wouldn’t take too long to get Tommy’s attention. Realizing that was the probably the best option, he sighed and sprinted past Wilbur into the hotel lobby. 

Flinging the trapdoor open, he yelled down. “Tommy, get your ass up here! Wilbur needs help!”

“What?” Tommy’s head appeared at the bottom of the ladder. “What happened?”

“He’s freaking out and breathing weird and stuff and I don’t know what to do!”

“Aw, shit.” Tommy scrambled up the ladder, brewing forgotten. Jack watched as approached Wilbur slowly, hands up and unfolded to show he was unarmed. “Hey, Big Dubs? You doing alright there buddy?”

Wilbur turned to his brother, looking frantic. “She knows, Tommy. Niki knows I’m alive and she’s going to think the worst and she’s going to tell people and-”

“Take deep breaths. That helps me.” Tommy suggested.

He took a deep breath, then several more, now looking red in the face.

“Hang on, how?” Tommy asked. “Was she here? Did she see you?” Behind him, Jack cringed.

“It-It was _him._ ” Wilbur pointed over at Jack. _Aw shit,_ he thought. “He said he told her. Private message.”

Tommy turned his head back to Jack. “Why would you do that?!” he hissed quietly, angry but trying not to alarm Wilbur.

_Well you see, we’re plotting to kill you,_ is what he did not say. Instead he fumbled over his words. “Uh, well, I’d thought she deserved to know? You know, she was real upset when he died.”

Tommy shook his head. “We’ll deal with that later. Wilbur,” he turned back. “Do you need to sit down?” The man’s breathing was calming down, reaching a slower pace. He pushed himself up against the wall and stood up straight.

“No, I’m good.” He ducked his head. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have had to see that, Tommy.”

The teenager did look frazzled by the display, but he shook his head. “Nah, it happens to me too. Don’t worry about it.” He walked over and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Wilbur startled at the touch, but didn’t back away. Meanwhile, Jack really wanted to just disappear under the trapdoor. This felt like too personal a display to be an outsider for, even more so when he kinda caused the problem in the first place. And also he was planning to kill one of them. That too. 

“Jack,” Tommy turned to him. “Seriously man, I told you not to tell anyone!”

“Um... Sorry?” There wasn’t much he could say without giving himself away. 

“Look, I’m not gonna fire you. The opening’s in a few days and I only have two people to help out, but Jack? Watch yourself.” There was a hard, determined look in Tommy’s eyes that made Jack gulp.

  
“I think I should just… see myself out then.” Tommy didn’t stop him as he moved toward the door, so he took that as permission to go. He power walked down the path, feeling wretched. It was only the morning, so there was a good chance Tommy and Wilbur would be setting up the rest of the day without him there. 

_Well that was fucked,_ he thought. _Was kinda my fault though. At least I have a chance to talk to Niki and explain. I don’t think she took the news well._ He pulled out the Manifork, thankfully not stolen today, jumped into a pond, and tridented away.

* * *

  
  


Wilbur eventually took Tommy’s advice and sat down outside of the hotel. One of the cats came over to sleep on his foot, him petting it lazily. He recognized it as the brown cat from yesterday. _Maybe I’ll name them._ He wasn’t bringing a cat home with Tommy around, and he already had Friend to take care of, but if the cats were here to stay they might as well have names. “I’ll call you Eisenhower, like the president.” The cat purred as if to voice their approval. “You have good taste.” he said, scratching their ears. 

“Hey,” Tommy came to sit next to him. “Are you so bored you’ve turned to talking to cats? That’s low.” He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but there was a tension in his words. “So, you feeling okay?”

“I feel better.” he admitted. “I’m still worried, but thinking about it, it’s not the end of the world. I just have to go talk to her.” His face fell again. “Oh Prime, I have to _talk to her_.”

“Okay, don’t freak out again.” Tommy placed a hand on top of his. He had to stop himself from flinching away. They’d been very distant in terms of physical contact ever since Tommy had let all his emotions out on Wilbur, and here he was stepping out of his boundaries to make him feel better. Wilbur really was a shit brother.

“You know, Niki’s been acting weird lately. Like, really weird. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want. Also, I don’t even know where she lives, so.” Tommy tried to be comforting. “I mean, I’m not talking to Dream anymore.”

“That’s very different, Tommy. Dream hurt you. I hurt Niki.” 

Tommy frowned and shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you. Do what you want.” He looked up at Wilbur. “Should we invite her to the hotel opening? That way you can talk to her.”

Wilbur drew further into himself. His back had started getting sore for no reason. “Invite her if you want. I’ll think about it.”

They stared off into the horizon. Wilbur could see the stark black outline of the prison he’d been dragged out of. Dream was in there, and he was never getting out if he could help it. He looked down at Tommy. All his life taking care of his younger brother had been his role. It could be difficult and frustrating, and even annoying, but he’d never choose to give it up. Tommy was worth it. And now, here he was, getting taken care of by the younger. 

“You’ve grown up a lot, you know?” he told Tommy. “I think more mature is the word I’m looking for.”

“I guess. I had to.” he muttered bitterly. Wilbur looked off awkwardly.

“Hey, I’m proud of you, you know?”

“I know. You told me.”

“No, I mean really. You’ve been through a lot Tommy. You deserve to rest too.”

There was a long silence between them. Then Tommy leaned into his side, a mere fraction of the comfort they were used to from each other, but there nonetheless. “I wish I could.” he admitted quietly. “I really wish I could.”

He drew a tentative arm around his brother’s shoulders. He didn’t flinch away. “I wish I could too.” He looked down at Tommy. “Let’s try to rest together, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

They looked out over the land, with tentative contact between them. Tomorrow would be another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Wilbur naming the cats after presidents is inspired by the content creator having a collection of American president shirts  
> \- I found out Jack's trident was called the Manifork and there was no way I couldn't include that  
> \- I added that detail about Tommy not talking to Dream anymore after the recent livestream. There will be none of that here. Dream stop traumatizing TommyInnit challenge.  
> Also, if any of you guys have suggestions for the absolute worst songs to have as the background music for your hotel I'd love to hear them for upcoming chapters. Think soothing elevator music. Then think anything but that.  
> Next Chapter: Big Q stops by. He's over everything at this point and is ready to make some money. Wilbur continues to make poor life decisions.


	3. Please Don’t Drink That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Quackity loving hours. Also I put my semester of economics to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you all a story, dear readers, about a king named Mithridates (I promise this is relevant). As a child, his father the king has poisoned, leading him to go into hiding in the nearby forests of Anatolia. There, remembering how his father died, he ate many of the plants he came across, hoping they would make him immune to poison. After coup-ing his way back to the throne, he decided to be more professional about it. He used his royal resources to make labs that gathered ingredients from across many lands, all so he could take more poison (no his Majesty doesn't have a problem! He can stop whenever he wants). 
> 
> He spent many years ruling well, surviving many assassination attempts (though we don't know how many because there were likely several that went unnoticed due to his immunity), but all good things must come to an end. After successfully slapping the Romans in the face for about 20 years, they stopped dicking around and he was forced to flee across the Black Sea. With few allies and defeat all but assured, Mithridates wanted a quick and painless death via poison. Except, that wasn't really possible because he was immune to it! He sighed and turned to his bodyguard Bituitus. "Hey man can you do me a solid and just stab me? Turns out I've become too powerful." and thus, King Mithridates died as he lived; not from poison.
> 
> How is this relevant? Well, that's for you to discover by reading the chapter.

It was midday, and Wilbur was standing in a hole brewing drugs. 

Today was the day Quackity was going to come by, according to Tommy. Apparently, while the honest business of the hotel was of some interest to him, he was mostly in it for their side gig. Hence why Wilbur was standing among boxes of bottles and blaze powder, plus whatever components Tommy and Jack had managed to scrounge up. 

Most of it was spider eyes, which wasn’t very helpful unless they wanted to make poison. They didn’t even have any gunpowder to make it a splash potion, meaning they were ineffective in combat. And Wilbur didn’t think most people on the server were dumb enough to down a bottle of poison. Most of them, that is. 

He sighed, taking a quick pause from brewing. Was this even worth the effort? What was the point of selling easy to make potions when people could easily make them themselves? High supply and low demand didn’t add up to profit. It’s the whole reason he tried getting all the brewing stands back when they were in the camarvan. 

He’d pegged Quackity as someone smart enough to know not to invest in a business this doomed for failure, but maybe he didn’t know their exact supplies.

Upstairs, Jack was stuck feeding the cats and changing their litter, a task given out of Tommy’s vindictiveness from yesterday. Meanwhile Tommy stood on lookout for Quackity. He planned to private message Wilbur when he saw him so he’d have time to get upstairs and not have a very awkward confrontation this soon. 

Logically, Wilbur knew he should avoid Quackity. His reaction yesterday proved he was in no state to properly confront anyone else relevant to his life before. But despite that, part of him was curious. Looking back on the memories of Ghostbur, Quackity had changed much since he last saw him. Willing to do whatever it took to protect L’manburg, Wilbur was wondering what he’d do without it to defend. 

The answer was drug dealing, apparently. 

Reluctance and curiosity wrestled in him, tying his stomach in knots. He tried to focus on brewing, pouring another vial of poison into a bottle and plugging it up.

The private message came shortly after.  **_Big Q’s here. You can go up now._ ** He really should go. He really should. He’d caused enough problems already, there was no need to cause more drama, especially for Tommy. But his feet remained rooted to the ground.

_ Actually, can I come up? _

**_To see Quackity? Are you sure?_ **

He was not. But despite every sensible part of him screaming no, his morbid desire to see what would happen won out. 

_ Yeah, I’ll be right there. _

He went up the ladder, careful not to move too suddenly so as not to make his joints act up again. Jack Manifold gave him a confused look as he walked outside rather than towards the elevator, but Wilbur ignored him.

“Really?” Tommy asked as he stepped outside.

“Yes Tommy. I’m going to have to face the world someday. Better start small.”

He frowned. “Jack Manifold is starting small, but Quackity?” His face looked doubtful. “If it’s too much for you, you really don’t have too.”

Wilbur brushed aside his concerns. “I’m fine.” It stung a bit, seeing how Tommy looked at him like he snap, either in anger or from frailty. He’d been the older sibling, the one Tommy relied on and looked up too. Then those looks of admiration had turned to fear, and now, Tommy just looked at him with pity. “Besides, it’s too late now.”

They spotted a figure on the Prime Path, only just making out his black suit and blue beanie.  _ Well, no backing out now.  _ Wilbur took a deep breath and stood his ground. 

“Is that Ghostbur?” he heard from below as Quackity climbed the stairs. With the sweater he was still wearing, he better get used to that reaction. “No, that’s-“

“Yup! It’s Wilbur, he’s alive again, yadda yadda” chimed Tommy. “He works here now, no big deal.” Quackity eyed him suspiciously, crossing his arms. The scar going from his eye to over his lip made the man much more intimidating, even if Wilbur knew how physically weak he really was.

“Uh, hello Quackity.” He hadn’t really thought of anything to say.  _ Sorry for blowing up your country? Sorry my father and brother blew it up again? _

“So you figured it out. And is he… like before?” 

“No! Definitely not!” Tommy insisted. “Well, not like he was at the end, anyway. Come on, Big Q, you trust my judgement, right?”  _ They know I’m right here, right?  _ Wilbur thought. 

Quackity stared for a moment longer before shrugging. “I mean, what’s he going to do? Blow up L’mamburg  _ again?  _ The place is already down to bedrock.”

Wilbur flinched, running through the blurry memories of rubble, withers, and screaming. The memories Ghostbur had forgotten were harder to remember, the more upsetting, the worse it was. But even memory loss could not fully erase the hurt from that day. But he pushed it down. It was hypocritical of him to be upset about what happened. Ghostbur had been upset, not him. Wilbur had never actually gone to the crater, despite seeing it from afar.

Tommy clapped his hands. “Anyway, let’s get to business! Welcome to the Big Innit Hotel!” He pointed over the hotel entrance, where a banner with the words  **Welcome Big Q** was written in sloppy capital letters over the Mexican flag. Wilbur recalled seeing Tommy staying up last night to make it. “And yes, yes, I know, that flag looks Italian. But I’m my defense, I am horrible at drawing eagles. That goes for all other birds, actually. Horrible, I tell you.”

Thankfully, Quackity seemed amused by the gesture. He laughed, slapping Tommy on the shoulder. “Nice man! It’s that thought that counts anyway.”

“Glad to hear it.” He ushered Quackity into the lobby. Wilbur trailed behind them. Quackity looked behind at him warily, prompting him to circle around to stand with Tommy. 

“There’s Jack Manifold, he’s taking care of our pussy problem.” Jack looked up from the litter box disgruntledly, but waved cordially to Quackity. 

“Welcome to the Big Innit Hotel.” muttered Jack unenthusiastically.

Quackity grinned at Tommy. “Wow, you have two employees already? Good for you.” He stopped and took in the room, his unclouded eye drinking in each detail. There was a tightness to his posture Wilbur recognized. That was the body language of someone on high alert. His eyes flickered over to meet Wilbur’s for a second, all but confirming it. Quackity was on edge because of him. Wilbur let his arms hang limply, trying to seem non aggressive. 

“So,” he turned back to his brother. “Where’s the, uh,  _ other _ side of your business?” His eyebrows wiggled.

Tommy rubbed his hands together. “Yup, we’ve got that all  _ down under _ if you know what I mean.”

“You mean they’re in Australia? Seems pretty far to me.”

“What, no! They’re under here!” Tommy and Quackity eagerly headed behind the desk. “What if they were though?  _ Howdy mate, can you pass me some drugs? _ ” Wilbur realized with a start that that was  _ his  _ impression. He remembered talking in a bad Australian accent all day while Tommy shrieked for him to stop. Memories came of the time Tommy had asked him to show off his music to Tubbo who was there on a playdate, only for his face to fall in horror as Wilbur whipped out the accent. He’d been mortified, while Tubbo had laughed nervously.

Once, he would’ve jumped in with his bit for the enjoyment of embarrassing Tommy. Now though, he just watched as they practically jumped down the ladder while he slowly climbed behind. 

Tommy held a bottle of poison triumphantly in the air. “Tada! Behold, our product!” 

He watched as Quackity glanced into the boxes full of the potions Wilbur had brewed earlier. The smile on his face flickered. Wilbur felt panic shoot through him. “What’s wrong?” he finally spoke up. Tommy looked over and saw Quackity’s expression, growing similarly concerned. 

“Well, when you said drugs, I kind of assumed you meant… you know, drugs?” Wilbur mouthed to Tommy  _ You didn’t tell him?  _ His brother just looked confused. “I mean, it’s fine, we can still work with this.” Quackity reassured them. “It’s just not what I expected, is all.”

“Did you really expect a sixteen year old to be dealing actual drugs?” Wilbur exclaimed. 

“I mean he was working in the government at sixteen! Selling drugs isn’t that far off from that.”

Wilbur wanted to protest that those two things had (or should have) nothing in common, but recalled how his own presidency had often made him crave grabbing a cigarette for the first time since he was a teenager. Still, not exactly drugs, though he didn’t know the extent of what awful things Schlatt was putting in his system by the end. 

“Anyway,” Quackity turned to Tommy. “So you’re selling potions down here? What kinda do you have?”

“Ask Wilbur.” Tommy pointed at him.

He stood up to the boxes and rustled through the contents. “Poison, some invisibility… honestly most of its poison.”

“Hm.” He held up a bottle to inspect. “Any special effects?”

Wilbur shook his head “Nope. Just poison.” 

“Wow,” Quackity remarked. “You’re lucky you have me then.”

Tommy crossed his arms “And why’s that? What’s wrong with selling poison?”

“Look Tommy, only rich people who don’t want to get their hands dirty use edible poison to kill. Look around, Tommy. How many rich people are there on this server?”

The blonde boy’s face turned into an expression of thoughtfulness as he began to count on his fingers. “That’s right, none!” Quackity interrupted. “Almost everyone on this server is a broke bitch!”

“Hey! I’m not a broke bitch!”

“How did you pay for this hotel again? That’s right, stealing.”

Tommy straightened his back and looked away. “I admit to nothing. I plead the fifth, as Americans say.”

“So what’s your point here?” Wilbur asked. “You said we were lucky to have you.”

Quackity smirked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “I know a method to decrease the potency of poison. Makes it completely non lethal. You’ve been under the influence of poison, haven’t you? What are the side effects?”

Wilbur listed them off. “Numbness, itchiness, burning, sometimes hallucinations… Oh. Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

“What?” Tommy barged up to Quackity.

“Woah, careful man.” He swatted the boy away like a fly. “What I’m saying is, if we can decrease the potency, we can make it so the only side effects will let you relax and see some funky stuff.”

Tommy and Wilbur stared for a second, taking this in. Wilbur finally spoke, “So you’re saying, you want us to sell diluted poison so people can… what? Get high off of it?”

“Yeah, pretty much!” Quackity looked proud of himself.

“Look,” Wilbur started. “I told you, we’re not selling actual drugs here. What if someone dies on accident? No one would ever buy from us again.”

“No one’s gonna buy from you now, either. It’s your choice, Tommy. You’re in charge here.” 

Tommy actually looked like he was considering it. He looked at the boxes, picking up a bottle of poison and swirling it around. “Tommy?” Wilbur asked with concern. “It’s way too risky.”

“I mean, we  _ could _ just grind and make potions people will actually want to buy…”  _ Oh thank Prime,  _ Wilbur thought. “... but this isn’t just another potion. It’s straight up a unique product. Wouldn’t that make us the sole providers?”  _ Nevermind. Prime’s never done a single good thing for me. _

“Well,” Quackity adjusted his tie. “I might want to sell some too once my casino’s in business. But you’ll get a headstart in the market. And the methods of production will remain a secret between both of our businesses.” He reached out a hand to shake. “What do you say?”

Tommy hesitated. “You’re sure it’s safe though? Have you tested it out?” 

“Of course! I’ve even drunk it myself. Now I know you’re a minor but if you need Jack or Wilbur to try it for proof-”

“I’m  _ not _ getting high on poison.” Wilbur spat. He had resigned himself to the fact that his little brother was growing up to sell hallucinogenic substances. To be fair, watching Jack try it  _ could _ be pretty funny. 

“I could use an animal to show you that it’s not fatal at least?” Quackity suggested.

“Finally, a good use for the cats.” Tommy laughed.

“You are not trying out your drugs on our cats, Tommy. I’ve already named them!” Things might’ve changed, but there was always one constant, and that was the headache coming on with every word Tommy spoke.

Quackity brought his hands up. “You know what? You can just watch me take some, okay? That way you know I’m being honest.”

Tommy locked eyes with him. “Fine. You show us proof, we go with your plan.” He shook Quackity’s hand with vigor. Wilbur felt dread pool in his stomach.  _ What have we gotten ourselves into…  _

* * *

The sun was almost down, Wilbur had a splitting headache, and he had brought down a box of poison into the building below that was apparently called L’Targay. Jack had gone home, leaving him to go see Quackity. The building appeared to be a store, but the shelves were all empty and a thin layer of dust covered most surfaces. Quackity was leaning against the cashier counter, standing alert when he spotted Wilbur. He’d dressed down, taking off his tie and suit jacket and placed them off to the side.

“Ah. They sent you, huh?”

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Quackity narrowed his eyes.

  
“Not if you don’t cause any.”

He nodded, putting down the box. Thankfully his arms hadn’t given out while carrying it. “That’s reasonable. You’re a smart man, Quackity.”

“Hm.” Quackity just strode over to the box and took out a bottle. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a vial full of clear solution, uncorking both and pouring the clear solution in. After plugging up the bottle again, he swirled it around, watching the poison’s shade become lighter. “I just have to do this for a little, make absolutely sure they’re mixed together. I don’t want to die in here, after all.” He said it like a challenge. As if Wilbur would be any threat with his aching head and his sore limbs. 

“Do your job and I’ll do mine,” was all he said back. Quackity leaned back on the counter and continued swirling the concoction, working eye staring straight at Wilbur.

“So,” he said. “You’re really just working at a hotel now? After all that?”

Wilbur shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like I planned anything out for the future, considering I was going to be dead and all. Not much to do in the afterlife.”

“So you knew you were going to die then?” He felt Quackity’s eye boring into him. His head rang, aching as if in response to the accusation. Wilbur rubbed at it, avoiding eye contact. He was too sober for this, and he hadn’t been drunk in a long time. 

“What else did you expect? That I would want to live after that?” It wasn’t something anyone had asked him about yet, but the confession fell from his lips easily. Of course Quackity of all people would be the one to notice.

The man across from him watched on quietly, looking thoughtful. “Was it to avoid consequences? Is that it?” 

_ Calling me a coward. That’s fair.  _ “If that’s what you want to think. There was just no reason for me to outlive L’manburg, is all.”

“Well congratulations. You’ve outlived it.” A hint of anger flared in Quackity’s voice. Wilbur was too tired to do anything but hm in agreement. 

“Is that almost done?” He’d been shaking the bottle for a while now. It was a pale green now, almost translucent. Quackity looked down and nodded. He unplugged the bottle. 

“Down the hatch then.” He took a quick sip, completely unbothered by the fact that he just downed poison. “If I’m not dead in five minutes, you’ll know the substance works.”

They stood in silence for a while, Quackity whistling aimlessly as Wilbur’s headache grew worse. It hammered against his skull, making his face feel warm. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He hoped Tommy had included painkillers in the hotel’s first aid kit. 

Quackity saw him pressing a hand onto his flushed forehead and frowned. “You alright?”

  
  


“No, I’m not fucking okay!” he yelled. “Stupid fucking headache in this stupid body. It’s just been one thing after another with it!”

Quackity’s eyes widened. “Woah, calm down man. You’re having a headache?”

Wilbur drew back after his outburst, pressing his back to the wall. It felt pathetic for Quackity to see him like this. Not that he’d been anything but pathetic since coming back, but still. Guess there’s no way to keep any of his dignity, huh?

He noticed Quackity coming closer and glared. “Hey look, do you want help or not?”

“What, are you gonna tell me to drink the poison or something? I’m not  _ that _ desperate.”

“That’s… exactly what I was going to suggest.” Wilbur sighed and turned away. “Hey wait! Look, I can tell you from experience, you’ll feel pretty numb if you take it. You don’t have to drink all of it. Here” He held out the bottle. “If you want it.”

He glared at the pale green liquid, to which his head throbbed again. Who’s to say more than a sip wouldn’t kill him? He wouldn’t put it past Quackity to take advantage of this moment. He’d seen the man’s killer intent with a pickaxe in his hand, who’s to say he wasn’t capable of the same thing but with poison?. Despite that, Wilbur still took the bottle, grumbling. He could show it to Tommy later as proof, at least.

The surface of the potion trembled with his shaky hand, taunting him. Even if he did die here, what would it matter?  _ Tommy would miss me. _ Tommy’s already had come to terms with his death once, he could do it again.  _ Phil doesn’t know I’m alive, he’d never have to know.  _ Between the splitting headache and the whispers of his mind, the bottle was uncorked reluctantly.

He took a sip and wrinkled his nose. It was tangy and burned a little, but in the way a fizzy drink burns. Quackity was looking again, maybe hoping he’d drop dead. Tipping his head back, Wilbur chugged the entire thing, Quackity making a confused noise next to him.

“I said you didn’t have to drink it all!” He snatched it away but there hadn’t been that much in the bottle to begin with. Wilbur had drunk it all. “Well, shit.” Quackity scratched his head. “Hope you like those side effects.” Just as he said that, Wilbur began to feel tingly. 

His head still hurt like hell, but it seemed irrelevant now, like static noise. In fact, he could just lie down here and it wouldn’t matter at all. He stumbled forward, nearly falling over. “Watch it!” Hands gripped his arm as Quackity pulled him upright. “Geez, can’t believe I’m dealing with first timers again. Come on, you’re going back to the hotel before it really kicks in.” He slung Wilbur’s arm over his shoulder and started dragging him out.

“But - the potion box - I made those -” he murmured, tongue feeling heavy.

“I’ll get them after. You still have more in the basement anyway.” He began to lean on Quackity, who managed to evenly support his body weight despite him being taller. They shuffled up the steps, Wilbur beginning to lose feeling in his feet. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a long walk to the hotel by any means. They stumbled into the lobby, Wilbur grabbing onto the door handle. “Uh, thanks. You’re - I mean, are fine at getting people back safe.” Those words did not make sense, but his body was too numb to care. 

Quackity gave him a dismissive look. “I’ve had lots of practice. Schlatt being Schlatt and all. Drunk bastard.” he muttered.

“Haha, yeah. I remember dragging his drunk ass home.” he began to slur his words. “Aaaaaall the time. He’d call me for assistance, and just expect me to be free. ‘I’m not free, asshole! I had shit to do!’ That’s what I told him.” Quackity stared at him with an unreadable expression. “But it was all a lie. I never had shit to do. It was either that or mope around at home, so I went out to see him. And then he’d offer me a drink, and before I knew it, I was drunk too. Fun times.” He laughed, then proceeded to let his legs give out, falling on his ass.

“Huh, I knew you knew Schlatt before the election, but I didn’t know how well.” Quackity tentatively reached out a hand to pull him up. Wilbur didn’t take it. 

His eyes flickered around. “You were right, this is better. I can’t really feel anything? Like it still feels like it’s there but I can’t feel it.”

“Good to know buddy.” He glanced around the lobby. “Hey Tommy! Are you in here?” he called. No reply. “I’ll private message him.”

Quackity sighed and bent down to sit across from Wilbur. “So, was he always a self serving asshole?”

He turned his head. “Who, Schlatt? Pretty much. We were teens, and I was always getting into trouble by hanging out with him.” A sigh escaped his body. “One day, I realized I didn’t want to be part of his messes anymore, so I left. But he still made a mess of my life anyway, huh?”

Quackity leaned his cheek on his hand, glaring at the ground. “You know, I think I hate Schlatt more than you.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Well, you rigged the election, you blew up L’manburg, but it was never personal to me. I didn’t know you.” His hand tightened into a fist. “Schlatt, though. Schlatt hurt me in ways I don’t think I’ll ever get over. And yet I felt like shit every time he got drunk, felt like it was my fault. I still cared, for some reason. And when he died…” He shook his head. “But he’s gone now. He’s dead and he did that to himself.” Wilbur was silent. There wasn’t much he could say to that.

“The thing is, though, I always assumed that was how Tommy felt about you.” Wilbur stiffened up.  _ Oh.  _ “He never talked about it, so maybe it’s my fault for assuming. But you’re here and he acted like nothing is wrong.” A bitter laugh left his throat. “It made me wonder how I’d react if Schlatt came back.”

“Well that’s not entirely true.”

“What part?” Quackity asked.

“Maybe Tommy is acting like nothing’s wrong now. But he definitely let me have it when I first came back. And it’s… it’s not the same. He won’t stand near me most of the time. He makes sure I’m asleep before he goes to bed. I didn’t even lay a hand on him in Pogtopia but he freezes up when it looks like I might get angry. And honestly, some of that might be Dream’s fault. But it’s not the same. Maybe it never will be.”

Quackity listened intently. “Wise words for a man who downed a bottle of poison.”

It was Wilbur’s turn to laugh. “To be honest, my body keeps hurting in all these weird, unexplained ways. I’d gladly down a bottle of poison then have to deal with it.”

That comment earned him an oddly sad look from Quackity. “You really don’t care what happens to you, do you?”

“Nope.” There was no point in lying. If Tommy wanted him here, he would stay, but it wouldn’t make him care. 

“Well, that sucks.” said Quackity. “At least you feel bad. I can’t ever see Schlatt apologizing.”

“We actually shared an afterlife together. He didn’t seem too happy, but that might just be because he’s dead and was stuck with me.” 

Quackity shook his head. “Of course. It’s what you both deserved.”

He nodded. “Can’t argue there. We both deserved worse honestly. At least it was just an empty void instead of like, hell or something.”

Their heart to heart was interrupted by the familiar thumping of loud feet down the stairs. “Well, there’s Tommy.” Quackity stood up. “And Wilbur? You have a second chance here. Don’t fuck it up.” He helped pull Wilbur to his feet as Tommy came down.

“Sorry, I was busy upstairs - Wilbur? What’s wrong with him?” He dashed over to where Wilbur was once more being supported by Quackity.

“Idiot drank the potion. You gotta go in slow, get used to it, but he just downed it in one gulp!” Quackity shook his head. “It should wear off by the time he wakes up.”

Wilbur looked into Tommy’s eyes, seeing the concern in them. “We’ll sleep here tonight then,” his younger brother told Quackity. “I have a suite of my own, plus all the rooms are empty. Think of it as a test run. We’ll make sure the beds are comfortable, won’t we Wilbur?” He managed to nod to agreement.

Quackity shifted next to him. “Alright, that’s probably for the best. He’s in no state to go out at night. I’ll help get him upstairs.” Tommy took his other arms and the two half guided half dragged the numbed man up the steps. Before he knew it, he was face down on soft sheets.

“Can you take off his shoes?” Tommy asked Quackity. “I don’t want dirt on the bed the first night it’s used.”

Wilbur thrust himself up, managing to sit upright. “I can do it, it’s fine.” He fumbled around with the laces, eventually managing to get one shoe off, then the other. At least he could still do something for himself. 

“Alright, you good?” It was Quackity who asked this. 

“Yeah, I’ll just sleep it off. Like you said, I’ll be fine in the morning.” Quackity led Tommy out quickly, but not before his brother turned his head to say something.   
  
“Sleep well, Wilbur.” 

With all the intrusive thoughts and headaches cluttered up in his brain, it might not be well, but Wilbur sure would sleep.  _ A second chance, huh? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is gonna be fun," I thought. "What a comedic prompt with no angst whatsoever!" I thought. Past me was a fool. Don't drink poison kids, no matter how badly you want to become immune.  
> Next Chapter: The Grand Opening. Sam stops by, Wilbur has a poorly timed reunion.


	4. Team Rocket's Blasting Off Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awesamdad is here. Jack can never catch a break it seems, but at least that's to the benefit of everyone else. Wilbur continues to make questionable dietary decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so canon? Didn't exactly motivate me much to work on this. So sorry if the chapter ends a little abruptly, and it will definitely be continuing, I just had to collect my thoughts first and it was getting hard to work on this. You'll definitely be able to tell which parts of this chapter was written after recent events lol.

The day before the grand opening was a sunny day, blue sky dotted with wisps of clouds floating along like sheep. They reminded Wilbur of Friend. Ever since taking up residence on the other side of Tommy’s suite these past few nights, he’d moved the sheep into the hotel. It wasn’t a perfect arrangement. Friend was a bit cooped up in the temporary pen he’d made, but at least it was an excuse for Wilbur to get some fresh air and walk him. And knowing how often pets died on the server (including Friend. This was probably the third one if he counted it right) he felt much safer if he was close to him.

  


It was on this fine day that he took him outside, watching Friend chew the grass thoughtfully.  _ Being a sheep must be nice,  _ he thought.  _ Just stand around and chew grass all day. I wonder what grass tastes like? Probably pretty good, if it’s all he eats.  _ He ran a hand through Friend’s wool. He’d need to sheer him soon, put the wool to good use.  _ But nah, I shouldn’t eat grass.  _

  


_...Well, what’s stopping me? Can’t be any harder than eating sand. _ The grass was a vibrant green, Truth be told it didn’t look too unappetizing. “What do you think buddy? Is the grass tasty?” Friend baahed in response, which could mean anything from  **_yes, eat some delicious grass, human!_ ** To  **_please do not eat the grass, you fucking idiot. Has the poison not worn off yet?_ **

  


He chose to believe it was the former. “Welp. Don’t mind if I do.”

  


“What are you doing?” Wilbur froze. Slowly turning around, he came face to face with the masked creeper, Sam. Mortified, he tried to look like he was casually petting his sheep, not about to eat grass alongside him. Sam looked genuinely puzzled, despite his intimidating disposition. The creeper towered over Wilbur by a few feet, something he wasn’t used to. Even Techno was a few inches shorter than him. 

  


“It’s none of your business. But if you must know, I’m taking Friend out for a walk.” He tried to play dumb, making his expression neutral.

  


“No, the thing you were talking about earlier. Something about grass?” Sam tilted his head like a curious cat. “Sorry if I wasn’t supposed to hear that, my hearing’s really sensitive. Can’t help it I’m afraid.”  _ Shit, no getting out of this one. Guess I better rip the bandaid off quick. _

  


“Well you see,” He gestured to the field around them. “I was going to eat grass.” Awkward silence.   
  
“Eat… grass?” Poor Sam looked even more confused. “Why?”

  


Wilbur wanted to bury himself back in the ground and never come up again. “Looked nice,” he muttered under his breath. “Friend looked like he was enjoying it.” The longer Sam stared at him, the more he cringed internally. Finally, Sam just kind of nodded, still perplexed.

  


“Okay then. Anyway, I came to tell you I just delivered the badges Tommy asked for. He wants you to come see.” Wilbur nodded, coaxing Friend to move by nudging him gently. The sheep snorted but trodded alongside him as they followed Sam back to the hotel.

  


Thankfully Sam didn’t try to make small talk. Wilbur sensed that any attempts at conversation would be much more disastrous than silence. He’d not known Sam well before he died, and their reintroduction to each other was him dragging Wilbur through his prison half unconscious. He’d had to slap Wilbur awake and force a potion down his throat so he wouldn’t drown in the water tunnel while leaving. 

  


So not the best first impression for either of them. Sam seemed cordial enough, mostly nodding briefly at him when he came to talk with Tommy about future renovations and whatnot. He had this odd thing he did where he switched his normal dark green mask for a brown and black raccoon looking one and talked to Tommy in a strange voice, but his brother just treated this like a normal occurrence. When he asked about it, the only answer he got was “That was Sam Nook. He’s helped me with the hotel.” Thus it remained an enigma.

  


Once the entrance came in sight, he immediately spotted Tommy at the entrance in his hard to miss white and red, waving them over. Wilbur tied Friend’s leash to one of the poles supporting the Big Innit Hotel sign, rubbing his head before leaving. Tommy stood over a box eagerly, pulling out what he assumed were the badges.

  


“Wilbur, look! they have our names on them!” He handed one to Wilbur and fastened one onto his own shirt. Looking at it, the badge was a nametag with one of those pins you unscrewed and stuck through your shirt. It was rectangle shaped with a half circle coming out in the middle to accommodate the logo, a stylized side view of a cow’s head.  **Wilbur Soot** was carved onto his in large, bolded letters. He carefully fastened the pin onto his sweater, careful not to let it poke his skin. 

  


“So you made these?” he asked Sam, more out of attempted politeness than genuine curiosity. Apparently Sam had made the entire prison himself, so this must’ve been child’s play to him. 

  


He nodded briefly. “I do metal working in my spare time. Tommy commissioned me.”

  


Tommy decided to butt in then. “Aw, don’t be so modest Sam, these are great!” He patted the creeper on the arm since the shoulder was too high to reach. “‘He commissioned me,’ he says. You want to know a secret Wilbur?” He leaned in, whispering loudly enough for Sam to hear. “I didn’t pay him shit. These were free!”

  


Sam scratched the back of his head. His mask made it hard to tell, but Wilbur thought he looked embarrassed. “They aren’t hard to make. Hardly worth any pay.”

  


“Or you just think I’m that cool!” Tommy looked at Sam with unparalleled adoration, bounding up to his side and Wilbur was  _ not _ jealous or feeling inadequate at all. Something just thrummed in his chest the moment Tommy spoke highly of him, that’s all.  _ You’re the one who’s done this to yourself. You don’t have the right to be jealous. _ He told his brain to shut up. His intrusive thoughts might be true, but they were useless and annoying. They led to moping and moping led to sitting around doing nothing.

  


Moving on, Tommy had pulled something out of his pockets. “One more thing. This’ll be your uniform, kind of.” What he held up was a bandana similar to his own, except blue instead of green. “This one’s for you…” he pulled out a red one. “And this one’s for Jack. We’ll all match and everyone will see these bandanas and go ‘ah yes that’s what the people at the Big Innit Hotel, a reputable and functioning business, wear. I sure would like one!’ But we won’t give them any, because we don’t have enough money for merchandise.” 

  


He held the bandana out to Wilbur, who paused before taking it. “Blue because of Ghostbur, I assume,” he muttered under his breath.

  


“What was that?” asked Sam.

  


He looked away. “Nothing.”

  


He’d always preferred yellow to blue, especially after that one time with Schlatt, nearly drowning in his youth. But he wasn’t going to make Tommy get a new one when opening day was tomorrow, so he shoved it in his pocket and decided to put it on tomorrow. 

  


“Where is Jack by the way? He didn’t show up at all this morning.” Jack usually arrived after them, but the latest he’d ever came was two hours after. They’d arrived this morning, and it was midday now.

  


Tommy shrugged. “I dunno. I actually private messaged him earlier asking when he’d be here and he just said ‘I’m really busy, be there later’”. He put his hands on his hips and huffed. “As if the opening isn’t tomorrow! What could possibly be more important than this?”

  


* * *

  
  


“Today’s the day we kill him then?” Jack looked over at Niki grimly.

  


They were in Niki’s base, looking over a map of the mainland SMP. They’d marked where Tommy’s hotel was as it was too recent an addition to have been recorded yet. The plan was this: Jack had brought some empty flower beds in the other day to line the entrance of the hotel, but while the dirt had been put in, he was going to leave the choice of flowers up to Tommy. Despite his pretense of manliness, Jack had observed that Tommy had a soft spot for flowers. He’d recommend a flower field he knew nearby where there was a good variety for him to choose from and insist on staying behind with Wilbur to keep setting up whatever was left for tomorrow. 

  


In said field, Niki would be waiting. Last time they’d done something similar, Tommy had caught on to her shifty behavior, so they weren’t going to waste any time. Niki would sneak up with a sword and do the deed. A shudder went through Jack’s body when he thought of it. Not from excitement, exactly, but the fact that the goal he’d been dedicated to for these two months was finally coming to fruition. He’d dragged himself from Hell for this, and now it was finally happening.

  


...And if he had no idea of what he would do afterwards he didn’t dare indulge the thought.

  


Jack arrived at the Big Innit Hotel, where Tommy, Wilbur, and unfortunately, Sam, were waiting. His breath hitched in his throat as he spied the tall creeper.  _ Alright, this isn’t a disaster. You can still send Tommy off on his own. Why would Sam feel the need to go flower picking with him? Plus, Tommy is embarrassed by it. He won’t ask Sam to come with him.  _

  


He strolled up casually. “Hi guys, sorry I’m late.” Wilbur, who was off to the side petting his sheep, glanced over briefly then went back, barely acknowledging Jack’s presence.

  


“Jack!” Tommy turned to him and scowled. “Where have you been? This is late, even for you man, and opening day is tomorrow!”

  


Putting his hands up, he tried to look regretful. “Had to do some repairs to my house in Snowchester. Creeper got one of the edges. It might seem like it can wait, but if I left my house exposed to the cold for too long it might cause some structural damage, frost getting in the cracks and all.”

  


Tommy still huffed but seemed to let it go. “Fine, but it’s gonna be a pain if it happens again.” He looked over at the hotel warily. “Hope no creepers get the hotel. It took so long to build!”

  


“That’s what the cats are for. They scare creepers away” Sam reminded him, gesturing to a tortoiseshell stretched out in the sun on the path. Tommy gave the cat a glare anyway.   
  
“Guess they’re good for something at least. Hey Sam, how come cats don’t scare you?”

  


“I’m a… special case, let’s just say. I’m not really a full creeper. Some stuff, like loud noises, still affect me. That’s why I wear this,” he pointed to his mask. “There are feelers on creeper’s faces sensitive to soundwaves. If it’s strong enough, we instinctively release spores and shoot ourselves up in the air. It’s not fun for me or anyone around, so it’s best if it doesn’t happen.”

  


“Aw, that sucks.” Tommy suddenly looked guilty. “Have I been too loud around you? Should I be more quiet?” He made a show of figuratively zipping his lips. 

  


Sam just laughed good naturedly. “No, as long as I have my mask it shouldn’t matter. Thank you for asking, though. It’s very considerate of you.”

  


Jack wanted to scoff. Considerate? Had Tommy been considerate when he stole his items again and again? When he caused problem upon problem for the rest of the server to clean up? He ground his teeth in frustration.  _ Calm down, you’re almost there. He’ll be gone by the end of today, you just need to do your part. _

  


“Well, as much as we all enjoyed that biology lesson,” Jack butt in. “I do have something Tommy will want to take care of.”

  


“Me? You got here late, why will I be the one doing it?” Both Tommy and Sam’s eyes were on him now, making Jack sweat slightly.  _ Pull yourself together. _

  


“Um, well,” he gestured to the flowerbeds, full of dirt with no flowers. “I figured you’d want to pick out the flowers to go there. You know, just some final decorations, just a little finishing touch is all. Shouldn’t take much work. In fact, I know a good flower field nearby. Lots of variety to choose from.”

  


Tommy rolled his eyes. “I gotta go pick some dumb flowers in a field now? Great.”

  


“I could come too, if that will help make it faster.” Sam offered.  _ No, you idiot!  _ Jack wanted to scream.

  


Tommy shook his head quickly. “No, I’ll do it on my own. It’s fine” He sighed in relief.  _ Can’t believe he’s going to die because he’s embarrassed he likes flowers. I’d feel bad for the guy if I wasn’t the one trying to do it. _

  


“Alright, I’ll send you the coordinates for that field. It’s not too far away, but not close enough to see it from here.” He watched as Tommy eagerly pulled out his communicator, not even trying to hide it. 

  


Once they were sent, Tommy perked up and turned to go. “Oh, that reminds me. Here Jack, this is your ‘uniform’, kind of.” He grabbed a pin on name tag and a red bandana out of a box and shoved them into Jack’s hands. “You better put 'em on before I get back. You too Wilbur!” he called as he rushed down the path. Wilbur just grunted in basic acknowledgement. 

  


Jack stared at the garment pushed into his hands. It occurred to him that he’d still be working here even after today, quitting would look too suspicious.  _ Wilbur doesn’t want anyone else to see him yet, so… I’ll probably be in charge.  _ A small grin crept onto his face.  _ Run a hotel, eh? That’s not such a bad thing to do once Tommy’s gone.  _ Looking at the bandana, he decided it wasn’t half bad. Red was a good color on him.

  


* * *

  


After standing for a while, Wilbur’s legs had begun to quickly grow sore. He sat next to Friend, taking the blue scarf out of his pocket.  _ Ghostbur, huh?  _ It wouldn’t be inaccurate to call them the same person, but so wrong at the same time. More accurate was that he had inherited some things from Ghostbur. The sheep, obviously, but also the love and desire to protect him. Caring about an animal was strange. His past self did not own many pets, thinking animals fine but not worth the regret that came when they would inevitably die when Sapnap was feeling particularly murderous. Yet it wasn’t just Friend, but the cats he had a soft spot for too as well.

  


Being dead had been stagnant. Days passed, turning into months, maybe even turning into years. There was no sense of time in that void. He’d attempted to count, but stopped when he realized he didn’t care. At the time, he thought he’d be there forever, wanted to be there forever. Stuck at the day he died on loop, angry, hateful, and tired. 

  


Would he have felt remorse normally when he’d been revived and brought out of his stagnant state? Who knows, but right now it was undeniable all the guilt and sadness that had rushed up to greet him as he returned came from Ghostbur. 

  


The ghost had been a front in of himself, the depths of sadness and regret hid behind a cheerful, smiling face. He’d not been as dumb as people thought, his ignorance being both simultaneously willful and unwanted. Ghostbur had wanted so badly to help others, to make it better, but hearing about anything actually being wrong overwhelmed him. 

  


He was a bit like Wilbur in that way. One blow to his ego was all it had taken to topple the card house that was his mental state, and it was all downhill from there. No, not even just his ego. If that were the case, the challenge to his leadership in the election would’ve been the tipping point. Schlatt’s reign had challenged his notion that L’manburg was safe, that it was his, that it was home. Compared to L’manburg, Pogtopia was a dark, cold hole in the ground. Where once being enclosed by walls meant safety, they now closed in on him, taunting him that he would be down there forever.

  


Perhaps that’s why Ghostbur didn’t want to know the bad. He knew it would crush him like it crushed Wilbur. Given that he had received all of Ghostbur’s memories, even the once forgotten ones, it appeared the mercy of forgetting was not extended to him.

  


Much like him, Sam had sat down, petting the tortoiseshell from earlier. Wilbur had called that one Ulysses. Techno would’ve liked the name, being another version of the hero Odysseus. 

  


_ Techno…  _ He supposed he’d have to confront him and Phil sooner or later. If it wasn’t for Ghostbur, he might not be so nervous about seeing Techno again. Phil would cause anxiety either way, but Techno had wanted to see L’manburg go up as much as he did. He’d always been nice to Ghostbur too, giving him shelter from the snow in his house. Really, the main reason it sparked worry was because of Tommy. Tommy needed him, and he knew when push came to shove, he would choose him over the rest of his family. It was easier to just let in hang in limbo, pretending their splitting apart wasn’t inevitable. 

  


That reminds him. “Hey Sam? Where’d Tommy go again?” He knew it was some field for flowers, but not knowing which direction that was made him unreasonably anxious.

  


Sam looked up and peered around. “I think he went that way. Southwest, I think.” He pointed off into the direction of Tommy’s dirt shack, beyond which there was mostly undeveloped forest. “I did send Sam Nook to help him, he should be able to catch up soon.”

  


“Wait, I thought Sam Nook was you in some goofy costume?”

  


He shook his head. “Sam Nook is a robot I built. Flattered you couldn’t tell he wasn’t real though. I’ve been getting a lot of business lately, so Sam Nook helps me not get stretched too thin by overlooking the hotel progress and reporting to me. I later programmed him to specifically help Tommy with simple tasks, so he could hold flowers for Tommy.” 

  


“Oh, that’s useful, I guess.” It had been a whole robot? And he couldn’t even tell the difference? Something about that disturbed him. The idea that something could go around wearing your face without your knowing… well it was a no brainer as to why that might bother him. “So, can you track where Sam Nook is?”

  


“Kind of. He has a communicator so he can tell me where he is and what’s going on like any other person. I’m not just letting an incredibly complex machine I built roam with no supervision.” Sam pulled out his communicator. “I can ask if he’s found Tommy yet, if that will help.”

  


Wilbur stiffened. “No. It doesn’t matter, he’ll be back soon anyway.”

  


“Alright then.” Sam reached to put it away when he got a buzz. “Hm?” He scanned it over, eyebrows slowly furrowing. Then he stood up suddenly, pulling his trident out.   
  
Wilbur scrambled to his feet. “Oh shit, did something happen already?” 

  


“All Sam Nook says was he found someone strange nearby with a sword out near Tommy and apprehended them. It could’ve just been a misunderstanding, but considering the Eggpire’s targeting him now, I doubt it.”

  


“The Eggpire?” He’d seen the red vines and been told they’d come from some kind of egg, but was sparse on the details. Why hadn’t Tommy told him there were people out to get him?

  


Sam ran down the path, looking for the nearest body of water, Wilbur not far behind despite his still aching legs. “I’ll explain on the way. I’m sure you’ve seen the red vines. Well some people in the Badlands started worshipping their source; the egg, and they want more people to worship it too. But Tommy was immune, or something like that, so now Bad’s out for his blood.” 

  


“Bad?” So the demon was fine killing Tommy for his, uh, egg cult, but he drew the line at swearing? “Shit, we gotta get there quick.” He sprinted after Sam, trying to keep up with the creeper’s longer legs.  _ I swear, if they touch a single hair on his head, we’re making an omelet tonight. _

  


* * *

  


Back at the hotel, Jack had finished placing complimentary toiletries in each room’s bathroom and decided to peak at his communicator. He’d sent Tommy off a little while ago, there was a good chance the deed would be done by now. Instead what he got was a string of frantic messages from Niki.

  


_ Jack, you told me it would only be Tommy! _

  


_ I think it’s that robot you told me about. He _

  


The message cut off, implying it was frantically sent.  _ Oh shit. _ Jack ran down the steps and outside, only to find no trace of Sam or Wilbur.  _ Oh shit! _ . His first thought was to run out to the field, but then it occurred to him that if he was caught, it was over for both of them. So he stood there, frozen and unable to do a single thing as his plans once more crumbled to dust.

  


* * *

  
  


By the time they’d arrived, Wilbur felt like he was going to pass out. He’d been trying to keep up with Sam as he flew above, but it was inevitable that he fell behind. Breathing heavily, he stumbled into the open field, the sound of Sam’s angry voice echoing across the air.

  


_ Sam can handle it.  _ He told himself and stopped to catch his breath. Had it always been this hard to run? This hard to breath?  _ It doesn’t matter. Where’s Tommy? _

  


He lurched forward, feeling like he could fall over with any step. His brother’s shrieking voice could be heard ahead, prompting him to press forward. “What the fuck!” he made out. “What just happened?” Wilbur would also like to know, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of the scene. Two green figures stood near his brother, one of which grabbed onto something squirming in its arms.

  


“Let me go!” a feminine voice cried. He froze.  _ Is that…  _ The rest of the way suddenly didn’t seem so far. Slowly walking over, he made out a shock of pink hair against white and black. Sam stood in front of Tommy protectively, sternly talking to the one held by Sam Nook. 

  


“Sam Nook wouldn’t attack unless something else did first. Why are you here?” 

  


“I - I thought he was a creeper from behind and reacted out of instinct! It was a misunderstanding, now get him to let me go!”

  


Sam looked doubtful. “I designed Sam Nook to look like me, and I’m more humanoid than the average creeper. Even if what you’re saying is true I’d still be concerned for myself. Besides,” he gestured to Tommy. “Sam Nook told me you attacked Tommy, not him.”

  


“It was a mistake, honest -”

  


“Niki?”

  


The woman froze up, eyes turning to him slowly. They widened in panic. “So, Jack wasn’t lying.” She looked petrified, all fight in her suddenly extinguished. “Why?” It was barely more than a whisper. “Why are you here?”

  


“I don’t know.” he told her honestly. Niki looked exhausted. There were bags under her eyes and an unhealthy tinge to her skin that Wilbur knew from experience meant she’d been underground a lot recently. She dressed in plain white and black, a cape slung over her shoulder.  _ Wait, is that…? _

  


It came out without much thought. “Is that… is that mine?” Upon further inspection it was indeed the shawl that had been attached to his coat. Glancing down further, there was a diamond sword lying in the grass. He looked down at it then up at her. The look on her face grew harsh once more as she jerked against Sam Nook’s grasp. 

  


“Let me go. Now” Her voice had been full of panic before, but now it only held ice. 

  


“Fine.” Sam gestured to the robot, who released her wrist. Immediately, Niki bolted for the trees.

  


“Niki, wait!” But she was already gone.

  


Behind him, Tommy came up, sounding confused. “What was that?” You know, she’s been acting weird around me, but that was something else.” He laughed and looked over at Sam. “Maybe she had a grudge against you, old Sammy boy. Sam Nook might need a bit of a redesign to make him look less like a creeper, eh?”

  


His deflections were met on deaf ears. Sam and Wilbur exchanged a worried look. Well, Sam’s was worried, Wilbur’s more so tired. That wasn’t how he expected the reunion to go. He gestured to the sword. “Is that hers?”

  


“Probably” Sam said. “Sam Nook only has a netherite sword, not a diamond one.”  _ Only? _

  


“It’s not mine.” Tommy declared. “Plus I heard some swishing behind me before I turned. Definitely hers.”

  


“Is Niki associated with the Eggpire?” he asked grimly.

  


Sam shook his head. “Not that I know of.” 

  


Wilbur picked it up and ran his hand along the smooth part of the blade.  _ Oh Niki, this doesn’t look good for you.  _

  


_ What a shit reunion, huh? _

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering (and I'm sure you are), the author ate both grass and sand as a child. 1/10 wouldn't recommend unless you're REALLY curious. Also I lied a little. The grand opening wasn't this chapter, but it will be next I promise. Featuring more Niki, more egg, and idk other stuff.  
> ...So, uh, yeah. That happened huh? Dream, why on earth would you think Wilbur will help you get out of the prison? Man's not exactly the best PVPer, saw someone say he has maxed intelligence and charisma and is shit in everything else and that's exactly right. Not to mention he's just going to be stuck with you in the cell. Don't see how that would help him except to further torment Tommy - oh. Of course.  
> Geez let Tommy catch a break 2021.


End file.
